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Frozen

Last night, I took my boys to see Frozen, and let me tell you, there is so much wrong with this movie I truly want to write a strongly worded letter to John Lasseter. After all the good work Pixar has done over the years, I expect more.

I would tweet Mr Lasseter about it but I don’t know how.

First of all, if you’re thinking about going to see Frozen, you should know that this movie is a musical – EVERYONE keeps singing. They sing the dialogue, they sing the plot exposition, they sing the frigging battle scenes. It was all I could do not to barf in harmony.

And since it’s a Disney movie – and Disney apparently hated children – of course both parents die within the first five minutes. Now my boys are pretty tough, but the two little girls sitting beside us were in tears. Thanks, John.

Also, by the end of the first ten minutes, it’s obvious that everyone in this movie is white. I get that it’s offensive to insert people of colour simply for the sake of inserting people of colour, and I get that the plot is based on a story by Hans Christian Anderson and it’s set somewhere in Scandinavia – but come on. Haven’t white kids had enough movies devoted to them? Even the sidekick was white, although he’d have to be. He was a snowman, come to life. A singing snowman. Of course.

Then there are the two main characters, sisters Elsa and Anna. The younger, less important sister Anna has just enough moxy to speak in complete sentences, but she – like every other Disney heroine since the dawn of the company – jumps on the age old Disney favourite that you should marry a guy you just met. She also hammers home that oh-so-useful Disney message that goes something like this: “No matter how immature and daft I am, you shouldn’t treat me like a child anymore because I’m 16 which means I know EVERYTHING. And I’m TOTALLY old enough to marry a guy I’ve only known for a couple of hours.”

And then there’s the older sister Anna, the queen. She actually, literally sings the words, “No right, no wrong, no rules for me.” Geez, thank you Anna Cyrus. Like a wrecking ball, you came in and plunged your kingdom into eternal winter – and we’re all supposed to encourage that sort of misery? I say no.

I have many questions for Mr Lasseter, in fact, regarding Anna’s character. Is Anna’s innate magical affliction – the one that makes everything she touches turn to ice – a metaphor for addiction or bipolar or OCD or some other inborn trait that makes a person hard to love? And if it is, why the whole, “I can be free and be me now” thing? And IS love enough to fix that sort of hot mess? Really?

I was prepared to say that the whole of Frozen was a complete write off, but about three quarters of the way in, everyone FINALLY stopped singing and a couple of valuable lessons came through…

#1 Marrying a guy you just met is stupid.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Christof tells Anna she’s looney toons for getting engaged to a guy she’s only known for the course of one evening, and I nearly got up and danced when the handsome prince turned out to be evil. There’s a lesson girls can actually use in their lives – boys lie. Ok, ok, boys sometimes lie. Also don’t be desperate. It’s pathetic.

#2 Ice and snow suck.

Unless it’s something you’re watching through a window, being cold – either physically and metaphorically – is bad.

#3 Sister fights are wicked.

Seriously – duck. They’ll work it out eventually. Until then, stay out of the way.

#4 Boys who do nice stuff for you are better than boys who say nice stuff to you.

Girls, look for the ones who have your best interests in mind – the ones who give you a bottle of water instead of ANOTHER drink, who have the sense to say “Let’s wait” instead of “Let’s do it now”, who let you wear their jacket when you’re cold (even when you were the twit daft enough not to bring a jacket). Also, watch out for boys who want to sing a duet with you too soon – both actually and symbolically. Nice boys are worth the wait.

But the main lesson you can scrape from the crusty bottom of Frozen is this…

#5 True love’s kiss fixes everything.

Well, sort of – an act of true love anyway. And you have to come up with the act yourself. And it’s probably not for a guy. In the end, the kiss is just a bonus.

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About the Author

Laura Fulton is a freelance writer, mother, traveller and former high school English teacher. After four years writing freelance articles for magazines throughout the United Arab Emirates, she took on a full time position in February 2010 writing features, interviews, reviews and the popular Motherload column for Abu Dhabi Week magazine.

Laura left Abu Dhabi Week when she relocated to Melbourne, Australia in December 2011. She currently serves as Director of Domestic Affairs for her husband and two young boys. She also works as a writer, ghost writer and editor. She is currently taking an in-depth course in fiction at RMIT in Melbourne. She is really, truly only a tiny bit neurotic.